Bonding
by CrossRow
Summary: A Bat and Cat Post TDKR family one- shot involving a goalie mask with father and son moments on the ice. Enjoy.


**Bonding**

**All characters belong to Christopher Nolan and DC Comics**

**I do not own any of these characters**

* * *

Inside the kitchen of Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth placed a bowl of cereal in front of a chestnut haired eight- year old boy, his grandson, Alexander Thomas Wayne whose shadowy hazel-coffee eyes were looking settled on a images of NHL hockey players on the cereal box. The eldest child of Bruce and Selina Wayne lifted up the spoon to his soft lips and slurp on the milk, as the old Englishman pulled out a chair and sat down across from him.

After few months in Florence, before Bruce finally had the guts to propose to Selina, she conceived Alexander at moment when their bodies folded into the other in the heavy down pour on the balcony of their river front villa. Alfred remembered seeing them sitting in the famous cafe, Bruce was dressed in a casual in a mute-purple shirt and jeans. Selina in a cobalt blue summer dress, revealing a rounded baby belly underneath.

Alfred held that memory in his heart to this day, the simple nod of his young surrogate son and the beam of happiness on Bruce's youthful rich skin. Four months later, a healthy baby boy was cradled in his father's solid arms and his mother's protective embrace.

Now, at age eight, Alexander had been slowly building up to his dream of becoming a professional hockey player since he first saw his heroes smash into boards and fire wrist shots on the flawless ice at the Gotham Knight's arena where John Blake couched young men from group homes and the streets, giving them a chance to master their skills with new equipment provided by the funding of Wayne Enterprises. It wasn't until his uncle John took him to a real NHL game and he experience the essence of hockey like nothing he'd ever felt before. Every player was packed with muscle, armor and a fiery purpose to taste victory from their defeated opponents.

"Make sure you finish your breakfast before you go outside," Alfred said, narrowing his wintery blue eyes down the boy that shared the distinct resemblance of Bruce, cut-stone features, hooded eyes and even the same boyish wave of brown hair. Sometimes he caught himself blinking his old eyes, making sure that this new life wasn't another fantasy and that he would wake up back in the dingy cave, looking at his young charge making a bloody mess with his stitching patterns to seal another gash from a knife or dog bite.

"Blake as told me that you're becoming quite an exceptional hockey player."

"Not really, grandpa Alfred." The young Wayne replied with a faint growl in his voice, his dark eyes looked at the printed image of a defense men on the back of the box. "I still can't shoot the puck that good." He parted his lips and sighed, "I'm be better off the ice at least that's what the couch told me."

Alfred shook his head, "Nonsense young man. You're caught something special inside you." He reached out a aged spotted hand and pressed it over the boy's chest. "You have determination, Alexander but you need to believe in yourself and maybe with a little more practice you'll find the truth that I see now."

A warm-hearted smile graced over his wrinkled lips as he watched the boy narrowed his eyes to the soggy cereal in the bowl. "I have an idea why don't you ask that stubborn father of yours to practice with you. He might teach you a few tricks that he did when he was a goaltender for Princeton."

Alexander's eyes lit up. "My father wore a goalie mask?"

"Oh he did more than that young man." Alfred replied with a twinkle in his blue eye. He watched the eight year drain the rest of the milk in the bowl, and then pulled out a chair as Alexander paced to the doorway of the kitchen with his head still down. "Don't be afraid to ask him, Alexander because you might find out more about your father that you've ever known."

Alexander rolled his hazel-coffee eyes, just like his mother did when stopped in her tracks. "Alfred it's like you're saying that my dad was Batman."

Alfred's withered smile grew into a cheeky grin.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Alexander invaded his younger sister's bedroom, carefully avoiding to crush the heads of Barbie dolls, stuff animals tigers and pieces of colorful construction paper on the floor. He steadied his dark eyes to the vanity, where he found his mother, Selina standing behind his six year old sister Celeste braiding her thick dark chocolate hair. The little girl looked at her brother's reflection in the mirror. "What is he doing in my room?"

Selina curved her deep red lips into a smile, and spun on her ballet flats, her hand rested on her rounded baby belly that was concealed underneath one of Bruce's black t-shirts. She was five months to the date, carrying what was supposed to be another little girl but after having another ultrasound discovered that she was going to be giving birth to a boy and a girl in late spring.

"I was wondering where you've been hiding, sweetheart." Selina said with a low purr in her voice. She looked down at her son, amazed how much Alexander, the small stubborn baby she'd cradled in her arms was starting to look more like Bruce, he even had the same curve on the edges of his lips like her husband. She winced slight, feeling a slight movement in her womb, and then walked over to the doorway, Celeste shot her brother a lethal glare with her hazel-green eyes and clenched her hand into a fist.

Selina noticed that something was troubling her little boy, as she crouched down, feeling her black yoga pants stretch against her knees and placed her hand on his cheek. "Okay, spill it." she said, looking into her son's hazel-coffee eyes. "You know that you can't hide anything from me."

"Alfred told me to ask dad about helping me practice on the ice," Alexander answered with a low voice. "I really don't think dad wants to spend time with me..."

"That's because I'm daddy's little girl," Celeste chimed with a prideful smirk playing on her full lips. "You're a sucker."

Selina turned her head and shot a glare at her daughter, "No one is a sucker, princess." she said, with a firm voice, and then settle her dark coffee orbs back on her son. "Your father wants to spend time with you, Alex, but he's been busy with the hospital opening and other stuff." She mashed her teeth into her bottom lip. "But think he has free time today."

Alexander looked into his mother's eyes with a hopeful gleam in his, "Really? Do you think he can practice with me on the ice?"

"Definitely," Selina smiled, and slowly got back up on the balls of her throbbing feet. "In fact, I'll go drag his ass outside. Be ready."

Alexander simply nodded, and watched his mother slip out into the hall. Selina spun around and gave him a fast wink of her eye, before melting into the shadows.

* * *

Inside the master bedroom, Bruce Wayne was on the floor doing abdominal crunches on the polished hardwood floor, his bare chest gleamed with a fresh glaze of sweat, his thick scarred muscles were flushed with new energy, as he inhaled and exhaled with steady paces of breath. He winced slightly, as he straighten off the floor, swiping his sweaty bangs off his forehead with the back of his hand. He didn't hear Selina enter the room as he pulled on his shirt over his head.

"Keep your shirt off, handsome." Bruce felt the edges of his lips slack into a smirk when he listened to his wife's seductive purr waft behind him. He turned around and simply stared at Selina, marveling at her motherly glow and beautiful silhouette as she sauntered to the bed, her long auburn auburn was draped over her shoulders, concealing the hint of chubbiness in her face.

"How are you feeling," he asked, inching closer to her, his large hands gripped over her arms. His hazel eyes were crisp with a few wrinkles at the edges, but his appearance was youthful. He was still incredibility sexy, smooth chiseled jawline and soft lips. His hair was shorter, silver strands touching the nape of his broad neck, but none of that mattered to Selina, she'll love him no more what he'd looked like because she didn't fall in love with him for those hawkish looks, and sexy well-built body, no she loved the man behind the mask.

"Better then yesterday," she replied, threading her long fingers through his locks of graying hair. Bruce encircled his broad arms around her rounded waist, and rested his forehead against hers, they became nose to nose, breath ghosting over her lips, and then a enveloped his warm lips over her mouth, softly kissing her, and relishing the taste of her wash down his throat.

He slipped and slid his lips against, hers, devouring the corners of her mouth as she parted for his tongue to thrust widely against her teeth. He kissed her again, hard and feverish, taking her breath away, but then she pulled away slightly remembering the reason why she'd entered their bedroom in the first place.

"You're son wants you to spend time with him," she buffeted a whisper against his sweaty jaw. "He needs his father...not a shadow today."

Bruce nodded, "I know." he parted his lips, sighing a deep breath. " I meant to spend more time with him, but everything is just been dragging me down."

Selina brushed her thumb over his bottom lip, "Maybe it's time to break a few a rules, handsome. Alexander is not going to be your little boy forever."

"What do you want me to do?" Bruce asked, his shimmering hazel eyes locked into her dark ones.

Selina swayed to their walk in closet, and pulled out a duffel back, unzipping it, and then lifted up a goalie mask with images of bats and Gotham city painted on the sides. She threw it at him and he caught it.

"Put on the mask." she said, giving him that look, which always seared right through him.

Bruce looked down at the goalie mask, and gave his wife one of his heart-stopping smiles, chuckling under his breath. "How come you always have the good ideas?"

"Just lucky I guess," she shrugged her shoulder, and then advanced out of the bedroom doorway. "Your soon to be hockey star of a son is waiting for you outside on the rink. Don't disappoint him, handsome."

Bruce nodded, and moved to the duffel bag on the floor, he crouched down and removed the armor and padding of his goaltender uniform.

A dumb smile played on his smooth lips, he starting assembling the armor over his biceps, wondering if his son had a wicked slapshot like Selina.

* * *

The temperature had dipped a few degrees, Alexander was skating on the frozen rink Lucius Fox built for him as a Christmas present, he was bundled up with a ski jacket, helmet and a pair of sharp edged skates. In his right hand was a stick, as he line up the puck and fired a wrist shot at the empty net, cursing under his breath as the words of his teammates ringing in his ears.

Suddenly he froze at the sight of a tall figure, dressed fully in a goal tending uniform. Black and silver goalie pads, shoulder pads underneath a black Gotham Knight's jersey. Catcher glove, chest protector underneath and skates.

The masked figure slowly wobbled onto the ice, his stick was gripped in his hand, as he skated to the stunned boy, and towered over him.

"Ready?" the goalie asked with a edge of Batman's husky growl in his voice.

Alexander dropped his jaw, lifting his widened hazel-coffee eyes to a piercing and fierce hazel eyes ones behind the white cage of the mask. "Dad is that you?"

"Yes." The goalie nodded with a warm smile, he placed his gloved hand on his son's shoulder. "It's just you and I, kiddo on the ice." He skated to net and crouched down into a goalie position, padded legs were parted, and mask pointed down. He lifted his mask and bore an intense stare of hazel embers at his son.

"Don't be afraid, Alexander, aim right to me." Bruce said, pressing his gloved hand on his chest, and then he positioned his body lower, with his catcher glove ready for the puck. "Let's see what you got, Alexander Wayne."

The boy smiled at his father's words, "You asked."

Bruce rolled his eyes under the mask, "Now where have I heard those words before." He steadied his eyes on his son, who was skating toward the lines of pucks, and then suddenly with a slapshot a puck came flying toward him,

The billionaire goaltender lifted up his catching glove and caught the puck, not realizing he was doing a full butterfly spit. "Argh..." Bruce growled, wincing slightly.

"You okay, dad?" Alexander called out, watching his masked father slowly get back up.

"I just a need a few minutes to get myself back in the game." Bruce answered, lifting up the mask, and swiping his brow with his gloved hand. "You have your mother's wrist shot."

"It's called slapshot, dad." Alexander corrected him.

"Whatever." Bruce played out, pulling the mask back on, and crouching down low again as he grumbled, "I'm going to feel this in the morning."

Alexander skated closer, his eyes locked on the six hole, a space that was created between his father's stick arm and body, Bruce rolled his shoulder as his stick paddle touched his leg pad.

The billionaire was doing a half butterfly, trying to maintain perfect balance but the eight year boy fired a wrist shot, which then sliced through the vulnerable space and hit the back netting.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Alexander laughed with a prideful smirk.

"Not bad," Bruce acknowledged his son's skills with the puck, he felt the fierce nature of the Bat scorch his veins.

His eyes burned with intimation as he tapped the paddle of his stick against the ice. He was challenging his eight year son."But I'm just getting warm up."

Alexander gritted his teeth and fired another wristshot, Bruce with a quick reflex caught the puck with a swipe of his gloved hand. His eyes gleamed with amazed at his father's formidable movements of agility and calmness. He pursed his lips into a brooding sulk, knowing that his father was tasting victory.

"Coach was right. I suck at this," he threw the stick on the ice, and stomped over to the bench, but then he lost his footing and crashed onto his back, smacking the back of his head.

"Alexander!" Bruce yelled as he skated over to his son, he crouched down to the boy's level and held out a gloved hand. "It's okay." he said quietly, looking at the tears build in his son's eyes. "I've fallen many of times."

The boy shook his head. "I'm failure. I'm not a good hockey player. Just a weak sucker of a dream."

"Do you know how many hockey stars failed," Bruce said, his tone serious. "A lot. But they never gave up. Just like I never gave up even through I failed a lot."

Alexander believed his father. "What did you do, daddy?"

Bruce smiled under the goalie mask, listening to a word his son hadn't called him in long time. "I picked myself up." He grabbed his hand by the hand and helped him back onto his skates. "That's why we fail, Alexander so we can learn how to build ourselves back up to victory."

The young boy turned his gaze and saw his mother wearing a black insulated ski jacket, holding two thermos of hot chocolate.

Selina slowly stepped on to the ice and looked at her husband with an impressive smirk, " How come you can good in any mask, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce shrugged, "Depends on what kind of mask, Mrs. Wayne."

Selina handed her son the two thermos', and then placed her gloved hands on the side of the mask, she slowly eased the off her husband's face, allowing his glistening skin to breathe, and then she captured a lovingly kiss on his lips, Bruce wrapped his catcher glove around her back, and pulled her tighter against his protected torso piece, the mask was still on his head, as he deepened a melting kiss inside his wife's mouth.

Selina coiled her arms around his shoulders, and Alexander turned his gaze away as his parents embraced. Bruce broke slowly away, his upper lip pushed Selina's up as he brushed a tender kiss on her lips as she smirked against the sharp corner of his mouth.

"Go back to net." she purred seductively. Bruce chuckled, and then skated to the net. Selina looked down at her son, placing her hand on his hand. "Ready to make your daddy taste defeat, sweetheart?"

Alexander smiled, and his mother and them grabbed two sticks on the bench, he held her hand as they walked in front of the net.

"Oh, I'm really scared," Bruce teased, pulling his mask back down over his chiseled features.

"You should be, handsome," Selina positioned her stick and fired the puck directly at his head, Bruce jumped out of the way, landing on his stomach as the puck cut through the netting. He turned his head and looked at the hole in the netting with wide hazel eyes.

"I played a few games of street hockey in my teen years," Selina explained to her bewildered son with a breezily voice. "Let's make daddy jump like a cat." She lined up the puck against the curve of her stick, Bruce positioned his body of 30 pounds of goalie equipment, and gave her a penetrating glare.

"Not going to happen," Bruce growled out, crouching lower, as he made his body fully shield over the net.

Selina helped her son, played with the puck, and then they both fired slapshots at the goalie.

Bruce dodged the pucks, and slammed his chest against the ice, releasing a frustrated grunt.

"Never challenge a pregnant woman with a hockey stick, handsome," Selina chimed, placing her hands on her hips, "Because you might end up falling on your ass."

"At least my sore ass is not a huge at Wayne Manor," Bruce retorted back, he paused wishing that he could take it back as a puck headed directly to his head. "Not again," he tried to squat down but it was too late, the puck bang off the mask and crossed the goal line.

"Got any more Wayne, because I've all day to kick yours."

He smiled. " Go ahead. I'm protected." The handle of his stick tapped his chest, and then he turned his darken glance at Alfred holding Celeste in his arms.

"I thought I'd come to take Alexander out of your hands and bring him inside from a batch of homemade cookies while you two love birds enjoy the rest of the afternoon."

Bruce nodded, watching his son follow his grandfather back up the steps to the mansion. He then skated back to his wife, brushing his gloved hands over her rounded and firm belly as she took a few steps back with a coy grin, sauntering over to the another net. She leaned her back against the goal posts, and breathed in a cleaning breath as she felt slightly exhausted.

"I think Alexander enjoyed his time with you," she said quietly. "You're a good father." She lifted up his mask, brushing back the sweaty locks of hair off his forehead. Bruce leaned closer, his lips grazed over her ear.

"You're a good and beautiful mother," he rasped with a husky baritone, keeping his hand on her belly.

He looked into her coffee colored eyes locking with his, and then the warmth of his mouth clouded all senses, she kissed him feverishly, moaning down the depths of his throat. Bruce rocked his body against hers, making her press her lips harder as his rolled his tongue against hers, feeling her body quake at the powerful suction of his lips devouring fully over her mouth.

Selina broke away, feeling another wave of morning sickness whirl in her stomach, but Bruce enclosed his arms around her body, and traced a light kiss over her lips.

"Was this life you wanted beyond the cave?" she asked, looking into his soulful hazel eyes.

"No," Bruce replied with a whisper against her red lips.

He stared at the memorable scene of Alfred dusted with snow building a snowman with his and Selina's two beautiful children at the corner of his eye.

Bruce lifted her hand, removed the glove and brushed his balmy lips over the wedding band while looking with a loving gaze in her still eyes.

"This is so much... better."

* * *

**A/N: Forgive me for the grammar mistakes. I will fix them later.**


End file.
